


A Mission From Death

by Gracesladyface



Series: Death and Mayhem [1]
Category: None - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 22:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18226535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracesladyface/pseuds/Gracesladyface
Summary: A young woman, fathered by death and raised by her urban community and alcohol addicted step father, must find a way to mend a rift in the fabric between life and death before the world ends.





	A Mission From Death

__ _ Thwack!  _

_ _ I am interrupted from marking down discounted soup by the force of a bean bag baby connecting with my cheek. I hear the sensible black dress shoes of my boss scuffle and squeak away as he scurries in the opposite direction. I hold out my pricing gun with both hands as if I am on a cop show and walk as quickly and silently as possible after him. Very carefully I round the corner. He is nowhere to be seen. No matter, this is a familiar game. I head quickly toward produce hoping to cut him off at the deli counter, knowing that any resultant mess of our exploits will be mine to clean up. 

_ Smack.  _ The next bean bag baby hits me in the back of the head. I spin around and charge, but he is already rounding the corner of the aisle. I change my mind and direction and sneak quietly around the opposite corner. It is a good choice; Dave nearly backs into me and I use my gun to label his ear. A very fitting 89 cents. 

“All your base are belong to us!” Dave had lent me the original European, badly translated version of Zero Wing last summer. I blow on the tip of the gun.

“Every time, Mitch.” Says Dave, resigned.

“I’m too smart for you.”

“Smart ass is more like it.” He pulls down the brim of my “Quick Mart” baseball cap, “It’s time for your break. Take it this time, won’t you?” I give him a mock salute and go to the staff lounge, picking up bean bag babies along the way.

Dave is probably the coolest boss I have worked for and the grocery store is a big step up from the “Fried Chicken Ranch.” (That stale grease smell does not wash out of hair or clothes.) I usually work the closing shift because it allows me time to finish up my homework after school and still help my step dad, Phil pay the bills. I had just turned 18 and inherited the trust Mom set up for me before she died, but I tried to stay away from that as much as possible knowing that I would need it to move out, if I ever convinced myself to abandon Phil. Maybe he is not the best step dad, but he has still been there these past 17 years when he could’ve bailed, left me to be raised by the system. And I know he still loves my mom. He is my only, very tenuous connection. His drunken reminiscing of anthropology classes formed the only memories of a mother I’d never get to know. She had been studying to be an anthropologist; he had been filling a humanities credit for college, truly he had taken the class because he‘d known he‘d have help studying.

There aren’t any snacks in the main lounge, so I walk into Dave’s office, through the open door and pick up a jumbo-sized bag of cheese doodles off his desk, an off-brand, and I wondered if, as manager of a store, you had to pay for your own cheese doodles. I took a handful and sit down in his leather office chair, looking at the security monitors. It is about 9:00. There is no one in the store, save us, and there hasn’t been for at least an hour and a half. We are open until eleven. It has rained hard outside for most of the day which is the cause of the barren aisles. It rains so little in LA that when it does people lose their minds, sometimes I’m glad that I don’t have a driver’s license yet.

Ten minutes pass and I am about to head back out to work when Dave comes into the office. 

“Hey Mitch, we’re going to close up early tonight. I’d like you to take advantage of this break in the weather and go collect the carts in the parking lot.”

“No problem, boss.”

“Wear this.” He tosses an oversized parka at me, “Just in case.”

Dave would make an awesome father.

The parking lot is downright creepy. Overhead lights are dim and two are flickering. I zip up Dave’s parka and steel my resolve. I am no little girl and there are no monsters waiting in the shadows.

I walk through each row, gathering the few carts I find. There are three cars parked, which is strange due to our lack of customers. As I reach the end of the far-left corner of the parking lot, the overhead lights flicker once more and then gutter out. It is too dark. Clouds are overhead obscuring the moon; the only light comes from the window leading to a fire escape on the five-story walk-up next door. There are backlit figures leaning on the rails. I hear the tinkling of breaking glass, and drunken laughter. I take a deep breath and make my way back through better-lit areas of the parking lot. The stacked carts squeak as I hurry. Almost back to the automatic sliding doors of the grocery store I slip, my hands can’t keep a grip on the cold, wet handle of the closest shopping cart and I land hard on my knee. I hiss in pain and use my hands to push myself back up to my feet and stow the carts in their nook.

Dave locks the automatic doors behind me. I hand him his parka, shiver at the loss of its warmth, and he promptly drapes it back over my shoulders. Noticing the new rip in my black work jeans, he instructs me to sit on the top of the bagging station as he goes behind the counter for a first aid kit. I can’t scrunch the jeans up very high so I rip the hole a little wider instead, I can tell from Dave’s facial expression that he does not approve.

“I have to throw them out anyway, can’t look like a ragamuffin at work.”

He chuckles at that, finishes cleaning my skinned knee and covers it with a Hello Kitty Band-Aid. Before I can hop down, he seizes me and lifts my ankle. 

“You need new tennis shoes, the treads are worn out on these, and…” One eyebrow raised, he pries the obviously loose edge of the sole away from the shoe. 

I shrug, “Sentimental value.”

I know that it will be a while before I will treat myself to a new pair of sneakers, I could go second-hand from a thrift store just to get him off my back. 

“I have a bunch of groceries that have just reached their sell by date for you to take home.” I start to protest, but he cuts me off.

“We’ll load your bike into the back of my truck and I’ll give you a lift.”

“Thanks.” I am really not in a position to argue. 

I retrieve my stuff from my locker, place my baseball cap into it and don my hoodie. Now Dave can take his parka back. He shoves six grocery bags into my hands and we leave from the side door. Riding in his truck will be a lot warmer than my bike anyway.

“Phil?” The windows are dark, he’s probably not home. The light flickers on as I flip the switch by the kitchen door. The screen door snaps shut. I lock the dead-bolt behind me as I enter. I clean out the fridge before loading the new groceries in. Dave had put a few containers of my favorite yogurt in with the groceries, not yet at their sell-by date. It’s the kind and simple things in life that make us happy. 

Too tired to cook, I nuke myself some ramen, and empty the contents of my school bag on the dining room table. There is an essay due on Monday and midterms to study for. After a few hours, I feel confident enough to come to a stopping place. My noodles had been salty, but filling. I bring my bowl to the sink and sigh, too many dishes, too late at night. It is a flimsy excuse, I am a night owl and I’d been putting the dishes off for a few days now, but it works for me. I flip the lights off and move through the rest of the house. 

We have night lights plugged in to every room because Phil has a phobia of stubbing his toes. He is zonked out and draped haphazardly on the couch, his head near the middle and his legs hanging off the armrest. I throw an afghan over him and set about cleaning the detritus around the living room, not particularly carefully gathering up beer cans, he won’t hear me at this stage anyway. There is a recycling bin next to the coffee table. We have a routine. He buys the cheap stuff, I gather them up and take them to the recycling center. They pay in two-dollar bills. Something about marking out the homeless people. (As if they need to be further set apart from society.) I tuck the two-dollar bills away, uncounted. I don’t have a plan for them. Maybe I’d give them back to Phil when I leave. Now you’ll really be alone, but you’re two-dollar-bill rich! How’s that for a consolation prize?

Some days he is relatively normal, we talk about school, he searches for a job and gets hired for a while. Sometimes he is downright mean, but mostly he is just absent in all ways but physically.

That night I dreamt of owls. They were sitting around a dining room table. The “father” had John Lennon glasses and a bowtie. Pass the peas.

***

I get up early in the morning. It is Friday. I take advantage of the fresh groceries and make a quiche. My pie crust is the best pie crust. I sing to myself as I slice up some veggies, mushroom, zucchini, green onions, and I toss some tangy feta in with it before poring the egg in and topping it with thinly sliced tomatoes. I pop it in the oven and clean up some of the mess. The kitchen is a train wreck with the added accumulated dishes of the past few days. I pack my homework up and make coffee. I bring breakfast out to Phil on the couch. He is grateful. I’m not sure how much he actually eats these days. I eat mine in the kitchen.

It is still a little overcast today, but I don’t think it will rain again. I ride my bike to school and arrive around 7:40, classes start at 8:10. Riker, Chase, and Damon are smoking by the bike rack, unconcerned at being seen, his group is notorious. I have a feeling that good athletes get away with a lot in our school which relies on their sports program heavily for funding and notoriety. I gag discreetly at the fumes, Chase offers me one from an open pack.

“Michelle! My old friend.”

I shake my head. 

“It’s Mitch. What do you need?”

“Mitch is too masculine a name for a pretty girl like you.” Chase winks shooting for debonair while awkwardly snubbing his cigarette on the sole of his flip-flop. Damon whistles as I pass, harassment, not a compliment. Chase follows me as I head to the library. 

“You must need it bad.”

Riker and Damon snicker at my dry and unimpressed tone.

“Actually, I do need a favor.”

I keep walking. Chase steps directly into my path.

“Nothing illicit. Just help with science homework. There are some chapters I don’t understand. You’re an egghead, right?”

I roll my eyes.

“Way to get her on your side man.” Scoffs Riker.

“Please Mitch?” Chase tries. 

He steps closer, places one hand on the wall above my shoulder effectively pinning me, his voice gets deep and sultry.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” Another wink.

Someone thinks highly of himself. 

“Monetarily?” I ask dryly.

He laughs and steps back, “Or there’s that. Tell you what I’ll give you 50 bucks for every A I get.”

I shrug, it’s worth a shot. 

“I have third period free most days, you?” I ask.

Riker nudges me with an elbow.

“Push it, it’s worth more to him than 50 bucks. If his grades don’t pick up he’s off the team.”

“Hey!” Chase looks indignant, “Whose side are you on?”

I smile at their interaction.

“I’ll tell _you_ what. 50 for each passing grade, 70 for each A. I can do third periods and Sundays, but I’m otherwise booked.” I dig through my bag for a piece of paper and write my number down for him, “Take it or leave it.”

“Ew, you’re getting _her_ phone number?” A pretty blonde and her gaggle of friends walk past shooting me dirty looks.

Another pipes up, “He’s slumming it.”

Chase puts an arm around my shoulder, he’s shorter.

“Sure, she has legs for days. Mm.” He smiles crookedly at me.

I suppose it could’ve been worse, he could’ve brushed me off or pretended that we weren’t exchanging phone numbers, like I embarrassed him or something. Riker looks as if he is fighting back a snicker, I shoot him a glare. I wait for the girls to pass before pushing Chase’s arm off me.

“I have a stipulation. Non-negotiable. Never hit on me again and we’re in business.” 

I walk away, now heading for first period, glad that I had gotten my work done last night. I can hear Riker and Damon ribbing Chase as I walk away. 

“What, do I smell or something?” I hear Chase’s faint voice in the background. I smirk. 

Classes are uneventful, I turn in my homework on time, write down my new assignments, I’m able to keep up with everything easily. I come prepared, it’s my habit to read the chapter from the text book twice before class. It’s a good strategy. Maybe I am an egghead.

Apparently, I have made new friends. Abigail and Darlene join me at lunch. 

“Hey Mitch!” Says Abigail brightly. Darlene smiles.

I raise an eyebrow and say “Hi” through a bite of apple.

“Man, algebra is a bitch! I swear Mr. Quok speaks another language.”

I nod, “Math sort of is another language.” 

I take a bite of sandwich. 

Abigail and Darlene exchange looks.

“I hear you’re going out with Chase.” Darlene states. Abigail plasters on a fake smile.

“That’s great, you’ll be super cute together.”

And now we come to it.

“The grapevine has it wrong. He’s paying me to tutor him.”

Abigail looks relieved, Darlene looks as if she’s not surprised.

We chit-chat for a bit. Homecoming is a big topic. I’m not going, but I talk with them about their dress and make-up choices. I let the other girls take the lead, I’ve never been good at girl talk. I can tell that Chase was the only reason they’ve graced me with their presence, so I bring him back into the conversation.

“I can talk you up to Chase, extol your virtues.”

Abigail blushes. 

“We’ve been casual friends forever. He just doesn’t like me that way.”

I shrug, “Guys are clueless, he probably doesn’t even know you like him and even if he’s not into you yet, he might like the idea of being liked and consider dating you anyway.”

“I don’t know, don’t go out of your way.”

I nod.

“You’re pretty nice, I kind of wish I’d made an effort sooner.” Says Darlene when we part. That’s a good omen, maybe the start of a couple new friendships. 

Chase finds me in the library during third period. We go over the first chapter he’s having trouble with, some of it needs some practical application so we plan to meet in the lab on Monday. 

As we pack up our stuff I mention Abigail, “You know that cute little redhead in our second period?”

“Abigail Dresden?”

Good he knows her name. I nod.

“She digs you.” Best to be straight forward since I don't really know any of her virtues.

“She’s hot.”

I laugh.

“Thought you’d want to know.”

“Thanks Dude.” 

He raises a fist in my direction. It takes me a minute to catch on, but I fist bump him back eventually. His friends have come to find him. Damon places his fingers on either side of Chase’s scalp and looks intently at his head.

“Nope, not eggy yet.” 

Chase rolls his eyes and brushes his friends hands off.

“Did you learn anything?” Riker asks, he looks bored.

Neither of them spare a glance for me, so I pack up my things and head to the next period. I would rather have 7th as a free period, to just be able to leave school early. Maybe catch up on sleep. 

I catch sight of Oscar and Collin after class and head over to them.

“Hey, I didn’t see you at lunch.”

“There were girls at your table.” Oscar explains.

Oy vey. 

“I’m a girl. You talk to me.”

“We’ve known you forever.” Says Collin, “And you’re into the same stuff as we are.”

“Do you have work tonight?” Oscar asked.

“Nope, not tonight. I figured I’d hang around the comic book store. Want to join?”

“Sure” Says Oscar.

“Far out!” Says Collin.

I regretted not having the foresight to put on makeup this morning. Not that I often did. The store owner is incredibly attractive, even though he is shorter than me, and much older. We ride our bikes downtown to the comic book store, cutting each other off, racing at times, my long hair whipping around in the wind. It doesn’t take us long to reach Villains Inc, or “VIL INS INC” according to the awning which could make it seem like an insurance broker.But the windows are plastered with posters of comic book villains, so much so that you can’t see inside.

***

My phone rings this Saturday morning. I answer it with my eyes closed.

“Michelle!”

I blink rapidly at my cell phone screen, I don’t recognize the number.

“Who are you?”

“Um… Abby. I woke you up.”

I inhale, and exhale softly, careful not to let her hear me sigh. “Yeah, how’d you get my number? Also, please call me Mitch.” 

“What? Chase told me that was your nickname, I thought he was joking.” I overhear male laughter coming from her end.

“Tell him I say hi, also congrats! You guys going to homecoming together?”

“Yes, He and Riker are giving me and Dede a ride.”

“They just asked you? Dude, talk to them, not me.”

She starts this round of laughter in their car.

“No!” She catches her breath, “He asked me a week ago, we all spent the night at Riker’s house we’re picking you up… I mean, you don’t have to come, but please say yes because we… I think we’re on your block.”

Riker and I haven’t walked to eachother’s houses since 6th grade when Phil and his Mom forced us too after school.

“119048, I’m in my PJs, I’m not getting dressed, but let me brush my teeth and hair. Where are we all going?”

“The boys are renting suits, we’re buying dresses. We’re in your driveway.”

“You’re going to have to come in first. OK? I might not go with you afterall.”

I hang up and run to the bathroom. Next I check the living room. Phil is watching TV.

“I have company, I want to see if they can borrow one of Mom’s dresses, They don’t have to see your room.”

He looks surprised, but nods, “I kept her clothes for you, should I go out?”

I Nod, “But meet them first, ok?”

He shrugs as he clicks the TV off.

The doorbell rings. I run to answer it.

Riker is standing at the door, the three others are leaning against his car.

“Please come in.” I’m too stressed to smile so I make a very exaggerated sweeping motion with my arm and when no one moves I bow.

Riker smiles and is the only one who doesn’t laugh. When they’re all in the house I close the door and say, “This is my Dad, Phil.”

I walk to the kitchen and make sure we have a pot of coffee and put four mugs on the counter while Phil shakes everyone’s hands. They make small-talk for a few minutes. When I hear Phil’s car keys jingle I grab the mugs by their handles and walk back in to the living room.

“Anyone drink coffee?”

Riker walks up to me and grabs a mug, “Thanks Mitch.” 

His smile still in place, “I see the kitchen, so I’m going to find the coffee pot myself.”

Darlene, grabs a mug too, smiles and walks after Riker into the kitchen.

Chase and Abby Shake their heads at me when I extend the two mugs to them.

“No thanks.” Says Abby.

“Ok, but I don’t know if there’s anything but juice and water left, Dad and I don’t drink tea.” 

They both follow me in to the kitchen, there are four seats around my kitchen table, Abby takes one, Riker and Dede are already seated drinking their coffee. Chase heads for the fridge and I get two plastic cups from a cabinet. I place them on the table. Chase sets a bottle of orange juice and a bottle two bottles of water on the table. There is an awkward silence and all eyes are on me. Chase looks confused and pulls out the second chair he extends an open palm pointing to it.

I laugh, “No… You go ‘head. I have dresses to pull out of my Mom’s closet before you guys go shopping, ok? I’m not going to homecoming, so I’m not going shopping with you either.”

Chase takes his seat, Dede and Abby start protesting.

“You have to come to homecoming, we’re all going together!” says Abby.

“Please? Come with us?” Asks Dede, “If chase hadn’t asked Abby, I wouldn’t be Riker’s date and we all like you, ok? Damon doesn’t want to go either, he already has a suit and he’ll be your official ‘Date’” She finishes, with air quotes.

I’m terrified. I look it. Riker laughs, and though I’m embarrassed, his laughter gives me a reason to take a deep breath and answer.

“No! I don’t want a date. I don’t want to go. If you still want to shop after looking at Mom’s dresses, I’ll come on the shopping trip. Deal?”

Abby, shocked, can’t respond.

Riker shakes his head.

Chase and Darleen both say, though not exactly at the same time, “No deal.”

My heart sinks, Collin and Oscar will be mad at me for even considering a school dance, we are the three stooges, we are three of the four Musketeers, the 4th Musketeer is too old to be in a highschool club, but he knows he’s our 4th and laughs about it. At the same time, I just started tutoring Chase, Abby and Darlene like me… I want more than three friends.

“Look, I’m not going with Damon. NOT. He doesn’t want to go so let him stay home. I’m going to go pull out the best dresses and put them on the couch.”

Riker stands up, “I’ll help, I need to talk to you about Damon coming.”

I let him follow me as far as Phil’s bedroom door leaving the others in the kitchen. I place my hand palm out, to say stop and say, “You can’t come into his bedroom, but we can talk here and they can’t hear us.”

Riker laughs, “They already know, but here’s what happened; Abby and Darlene want you to come, so do I; you’re fun when you’re having a good time. Damon is going because he and I made a bet last night. I put money on you not wanting to date him, he only gets the money at Homecoming.”

I laugh and it takes a lot of effort to stop. Riker waits patiently.

“Please come, I’ll buy your dress.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head, but I say, “Ok. I’m coming too, I’m wearing one of mom’s dresses, but if I hate it: You, Sir, must drive me home.”

“Perfect, Dede wants to date Damon. Damon doesn’t want a girlfriend, but I guarantee that after Homecoming they will be in a relationship for at least a month.”

“This is NOT a date.”

His face is blank when he shrugs.

“Does that mean you agree?”

He laughs, “I really want to argue, just to make fun of you, but you’ll take me seriously no matter what I say…”

I smile.

“No, this is not a date, but I’m running for homecoming king and the Lacrosse team is voting for me, as well as my football team, probably their dates as well… And when I win, I will ask you to dance, if I haven’t given you a ride home yet. You can say no, but you’re polite and you’re probably going to do it and whisper something offensive in my ear.”

“I did not go to a dance with you in middle school and I have changed since then... but that does sound like something I would do. Probably I’m going to ask you to drive me home as soon as we get there, then I don’t have to dance at all.” 

He smiles, “Pick your dress first, ok? My mom taught me to waltz, it’s easy we’ll practice while the girls try on dresses in your room, I can go tell Chase to rent my suit for me, None of us are wearing ties and we’re all wearing black suits so his job is easy.”

“You’re going to let him drive your car?”

“He has a license, just like me, if you knew how to drive you could also borrow my car, but since you don’t have a license and I’m not old enough to teach you…”

I clear my throat, “Alright, I’ll leave the dress I want in the closet and grab all of the other dresses, I’ll drape them over the back of the couch, my room is untidy, but you can help me place the dresses on my bed. Ok?” 

I wait for him to nod before I go into Phil’s room.

Riker starts taking the dresses I lay out on the couch to my bedroom, though he did almost walk into the bathroom with the first armful. When I’m done putting the dresses on the couch I show Abby and Dede where my room is, they wait outside my door for Riker to finish. Only 5 of mom’s dresses are formal, I pulled 4 of them and more than a few nice ones out too. 

By the afternoon, Phil is on the couch Riker has Driven Chase Home and Abby, Dede and I go shopping, Riker doesn’t know what we’re buying, Phil is picking us up from the Mall, Abby and Dede think we’re being nice, but the boys are going to hate their ties. I’m paying for them. Yes, I am that petty.

When Abby and Dede are home Phil Tells me that he and Riker did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen together. I almost started to feel guilty.

But, Phil said, “I really like your first Boyfriend.”

I really hope he can’t tie a tie, because I will gladly tighten his.


End file.
